


In the Light of the Sun and the Moon

by raiyana



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Humor, Kidnapping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 22:59:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14295318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiyana/pseuds/raiyana
Summary: The year is 130 of the Third Age of the Sun, and peace has been restored to the Eldar after the great and Terrible War that ended the previous Age... or has it?Glorfindel has doubts, and when Elrond is kidnapped, he smells a nefarious plot afoot...Can he save his friend from a no-doubt terrible fate at the hands of his abductor?





	In the Light of the Sun and the Moon

“Elrond has been abducted!”

Whatever Glorfindel had assumed his lovely Erestor – and being free to call him that still sent shivers of delight down his spine – would say when he entered the courtyard where the warriors responsible for the defence of Imladris were training… that was not it.

“What?” he asked, certain he must have misheard; _who would want to kidnap Elrond?_

“Elrond has been kidnapped!” Erestor hissed angrily, brandishing a piece of paper at him. Glorfindel snatched it – nice paper thickness, made with what he thought was lilacs – trying to read:

 

_I have abducted your Master Elrond._

_For now, he is unharmed, and shall remain so;_

_I will return him to you at the end of five days from now,_

_when I have been given what I desire._

 

It was unsigned though there was a splotch of ink beneath the words.

Glorfindel crumpled the letter in his fist, feeling his heart race in his chest as he stared at Erestor. They were supposed to have _peace_ , now, since the defeat of Sauron!

Cursing, he whirled on his heel, hastening off towards the armoury.

“Where are you going?” Erestor cried out, running to keep up.

“I’m going after whoever wrote this, of course,” Glorfindel thundered darkly, pulling on a fresh tunic and beginning to assemble his armour.

“But…” Erestor objected, but Glorfindel interrupted him with a sudden thought:

“Have you told Lady Celebrían?” he barked, watching Erestor flush guiltily.

“No, he replied, shaking his head, “I saw the note in his study and came straight to you… should we send a messenger to her?” Glorfindel bit his lip, thinking.

“No,” he sighed, “probably best not to worry her; she has her Marsh Wardens along, there’s no reason to believe she’s in danger, too. What matters is _Elrond_.”

“But what if…” Erestor muttered again, “what if going after him makes whoever took him… harm him?” Pointing at the letter Glorfindel had dropped on the floor, he added, “The letter says that he is unharmed and will remain so; will be returned to us in five days, in fact.”

Glorfindel smiled grimly.

“That’s what they want us to believe,” he said, seeing it so clearly in his mind, “and if he _isn’t_ returned in five days?” he asked, giving the answer himself: “Then whoever took him will have a major head-start and we’d never find him alive!”

“You’re right,” Erestor said, nodding, “but raising the alarm might alert someone to our moves; I can hardly think such a thing as kidnapping the _Lord of Imladris_ could be accomplished without the aid of an inside accomplice.”

Erestor swallowed hard and began to pull off his long robes. Glorfindel stared.

“What are you doing?” he asked, though it was obvious by the gear Erestor was pulling from storage, pieces of armour and leather that Glorfindel had silently hoped never to see him wear again.

“I’m coming with you.” Erestor gave him a look that told him protesting would be futile; it was oddly arousing. Glorfindel scowled at himself, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming over Erestor’s body dressed for war instead of concealed in the voluminous robes of his station. He sighed.

“Let’s go then.”

 

 

_Meanwhile, some ways away from Imladris, in a small glade:_

 

Elrond woke slowly, feeling soft grass rather than cool linen under his cheek. He could hear the rustling of fabric, and the soothing melody of small birds in the trees above him, the breeze singing through the canopy.

“Good morning!”

“Celebrían…?” he asked, blinking blearily and tried to focus. It _was_ her, silver hair and that small nose he loved kissing, her full red lips stretched in a loving smile. “Didn’t you… leave?” He thought he remembered saying goodbye to her, surrounded by a contingent of Marsh Wardens ready to escort her on a trip to Lothlórien to see her cousin’s new babe. As his vision cleared, so did his memory. “You drugged me!” he accused, feeling equal parts annoyed and amused at the guilt written on her soft face. Then her blue eyes hardened.

“I had to!” she claimed, huffing a loose curl out of her face.

“…Had to?” confused, he accepted the cup of water she handed him, raising an eyebrow at her over the rim. Celebrían flushed brightly, lowering her eyes as she bit her lip. Elrond drank the water, feeling it refresh his whole body.

“Yes!” she said loudly, one hand flashing out in a gesture of frustration he recognised from war councils with Celeborn. Elrond took another mouthful of water to hide his smile. “It seemed the only way I’d get to talk to you without… _interruptions_.” Glaring at him, she pulled a small loaf of bread from the sack beside her and handed it over.

Elrond chewed silently, his ears burning. He knew what she meant; it certainly seemed as though every time they tried to be alone of late, _someone_ would interrupt, needing his immediate attention.

“What did you wish to discuss, my love?” he asked, pushing himself upright and ignoring the light-headedness that followed. Celebrían looked oddly nervous. Elrond continued to eat, enjoying the sight of her in the early morning sunlight as she gathered her thoughts. He felt an odd impulse to kiss her – not that odd, really, he usually wanted to kiss her – but remained where he was. Her silver hair had been braided, the long plait hanging over one shoulder; some of the small wildflowers that dotted the grass around them had been pushed into the coils. She was wearing the same travelling gear he had seen her in last; soft buckskin leggings, a finely-dyed blue coat and the Elessar glittering at her throat. Reaching out to touch her hand, her fingers twisting the stem of another flower between them, he squeezed her gently.

“Do you feel very terrible? From the sleeping powder, I mean, I wasn't sure how much to give you - you've slept a long time,” she mumbled, glancing up at him through pale lashes. Elrond chuckled, tugging on her hand until he could wrap his arm around her, press a kiss to the tip of her ear.

“No, my sweet,” he promised, hugging her. Celebrían sighed, relaxing against him. For a moment, there were no sounds but the birds chirping among the rustling leaves, and Elrond felt the tendrils of peace sneaking across his mind, light fingers running over his soul in a fleeting caress. “Why did you bring me here, though?” he repeated, simply curious. He had obligations at home, sure, but they felt insignificant in comparison to holding his beloved wife and soothing whatever thoughts haunted her.

“I wanted to speak to you about elflings,” she said quietly, her fingers twisting the flower until the head popped off. Elrond swallowed nervously, gripping her tighter.

“Elflings?” he asked, trying to swallow the dryness in his mouth as he realised what she meant. An image flashed across his mind, Celebrían smiling softly as her hands cradled her gravid belly. He sucked in a harsh breath.

“Having elflings,” she amended, the blush in her cheeks spreading to her ears when she turned her head to look at him. “I want to make an elfling with you, Elrond.”

He had considered it, in the abstract, at least, before, and yet something in him felt utterly terrified at the idea of becoming a father – he barely remembered his own, and although Maglor and Maedhros had done their best for him and Elros, living in a forest camp, a dwarf mountain and finally being sent away for their own safety had not truly prepared him for the task of raising his own sons, no matter how much he loved his adoptive fathers.

And yet, Elros had managed – whether he’d done well or ill by them was not for Elrond to say, but he _had_ loved them – and part of him wanted to meet a person who would be half him and half Celebrían.

“Elflings…” he murmured softly. Celebrían nodded. “Are you sure?” he asked, suddenly worried she’d change her mind, tell him no, and clutching her against him when she nodded again, smiling that happy smile he loved best.

“I’m sure,” she whispered, sealing it with a kiss. “If you want to…”

He laughed, feeling bright and happy as he bent to steal a kiss from her lips. “Oh, I want to,” he promised. If Celebrían was there, she would help him, he knew, and she would be a great mother.

Suddenly, with the sun shining brightly above them, the grass verdant and soft around them and the sound of birds chirping happily filling his ears, his fears seemed slightly ridiculous.

 

 

 

They had searched carefully but swiftly through the immediate surroundings of Imladris, finding the trail of a horse carrying two persons by noon. By the time the Sun set, Glorfindel was reasonably certain that they would find Elrond and his abductors the next day; the trail was faint due to the lack of rain and the obvious experience of their quarry in moving undetected through woodland. He wondered if the abductor could be a Silvan elf, though he had no reason to believe any of the Silvans thought poorly of Elrond; on the opposite, after he’d saved the life of their beloved King Thranduil in the War, the Silvans treated him cordially. Marrying Celebrían, whom the Nandorin descendants of the original tribes who called the Great Forests home, considered one of their own, had only cemented the goodwill between the peoples divided by the Misty Mountains.

They did not light a fire, and although Glorfindel had assigned himself the night’s watch, Erestor did not sleep, studying the abductor’s letter in the light of the moon and stars.

“This is my paper,” he said quietly, “I made it as a wedding present for Lady Celebrían – I put her lilacs in it…”

“We’ll find Elrond and bring him back to her,” Glorfindel promised, stopping in his circuit of the camp to squeeze Erestor’s shoulder. The Loremaster rewarded him a pale smile.

Something glittered on the page.

Glorfindel frowned.

“There’s more to the letter…” he breathed, spreading it flat on the ground and staring at the markings that appeared when the moon peeked out from behind a cloud.

 

_Stupid pen!_

_Anyway, Erestor, you’re most likely to find this,_

_So don’t worry; Adar’s Marsh Wardens are more_

_than capable of protecting both of us_

_Do not send anyone after us!_

_I repeat: DO NOT SEND ANYONE AFTER US_

_If I have to steal my husband away from you all_

_to get some time alone with him, then I shall do so!_

_ESPECIALLY DO NOT SEND GLORFINDEL AFTER US!_

_!!_

_Much love,_

_Celebrían._

 

Glorfindel mouthed each word as he read over Erestor’s shoulder. He was still staring at the purple piece of paper when Erestor’s quiet giggles became loud guffaws, flabbergasted.

“ _Celebrían_ abducted Elrond?” he said, staring at Erestor in disbelief, but his beloved was no help at all, curled up on the ground shaking with laughter.

“That’s… actually, that’s typical Celebrían,” Erestor chuckled, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes and staring up at Glorfindel, who had to laugh himself. “Though she could have grabbed _any other pen_ when the first one broke and I’d have been happy. Bloody Moon-runes.” Shaking his head and continuing to chuckle lightly, Erestor reread the letter, glancing amusedly up at Glorfindel. “She did say _not_ to send you after them… I wonder why?”

Glorfindel flushed slightly. “It… may have to do with my walking in on the two of them in bed last week,” he admitted sheepishly, “but I didn’t _see_ anything, I swear!”

Sinking down onto the ground beside Erestor, he tried not to let his lover’s loud guffaws break his bad mood, feeling slightly foolish at his earlier worry.

“Well, as we do not need to hare off after Elrond and his wayward wife in the morning,” Erestor said quietly, turning his head and giving him a kiss, “perhaps you’d like a little truancy of your own?” Smirking, he added, “After all, the Master of Imladris is not going to know that we disappeared, too…”

Glorfindel pounced, making a mental note to thank Celebrían later.

 

 

Five days later, a glowing Celebrían returned to Imladris in the company of her equally happy husband, one hand resting gently over the new lives growing inside her.

Elrond locked away the Moon-rune pen-set he’d been gifted by Celebrimbor once upon a time, and shared a laugh with his wife when he told her how her letter had been received.

 

 


End file.
